You Understand Better Than Anyone
by GreyStark
Summary: Sansa finds herself thinking about Theon Greyjoy. He saved her from Ramsay Bolton once, only to have him return home to Pyke. She can't stop thinking about him. Jon seems to think she's in love with him. Would that really be so terrible to be in love with a man like Theon? (Reuploaded with corrected formatting issues!)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Open the gates," a cry that was all too familiar. Only this time, it was welcoming.

 _We've taken back Winterfell. House Bolton is gone._

Sansa felt a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with the falling snow. A knock at the door came as she pulled on the hooded cloak. The leaf embroideries had taken forever, but it was well worth it. Making things in her spare time helped keep her mind off things.

"Enter."

"Lady Stark," Maester stood in the now open doorway. "Forgive my intrusion, but Jon Snow is home."

Ghost was already running through the halls. Normally, the Direwolf hardly made a sound. In that moment, however his cries echoed through the halls.

"Jon! Excuse me, Maester I should go greet him."

"Of course, My Lady," the elderly man nodded, and stepped out of the way.

"Have Bran brought to the great hall," Sansa called over her shoulder. Arya's boots echoed loudly as she took three steps at a time. Sansa smiled. Things had been doing better between the two of them over the past few weeks.

 _I hope Mother and Father are proud._ The thought came as she descended the stairs, not as quickly as Arya. Sansa knew better than to get in her little sisters way, particularly when it came to Jon. Arya should see him first. There would be plenty of time for her to speak with him later.

What Sansa did not expect to see was the Targaryen Queen.

"Jon?"

"Sansa," he nodded, grin fading as he placed Arya back down on her feet.

Her eyes found Dany, scanning her over. This was not the homecoming she'd anticipated.

Jon glanced from Dany to his sister as they stared at one another in stunned, awkward silence.

"This is Daenerys."

Sansa looked about the hall. The men obviously uneasy, possibly a little angry by the newcomer in their halls.

"Hello," She strode over, eyes not leaving the queen's as she sat down across from them. "If I knew we were having company, I would have had a first prepared."

"Oh, there's no need-" Dany began before Jon held up a hand to silence her.

"I tried to send a Raven. It didn't arrive in time. I apologize."

Arya sat between the two. They could all sense some sort of tension in the air. She just couldn't quite put her finger on what it was just yet.

Negotiations were held, and a reluctant alliance was made. It took some time to calm the Knights of the Vale, but it was evident that they trusted her.

"I'll make sure a room is prepared for you, your grace." Sansa turned to leave, but Jon called out to her before she could leave.

"Can the two of us speak alone?"

Sansa turned back to him, and nodded.

"I'll meet you in your bedroom, if that's all right?"

"Of course, Jon." Sansa nodded curtly, and made her way back up the stone steps.

 _Jon wanted to speak alone. What couldn't be said in front of everyone?_

She sat on the edge of her bed, and continued her most recent project, a new cloak for Arya. Embroidered across the edge was her sword, Needle. The silver and gold threads shimmered in the candle light. A wolf pelt lined the mandarin collar.

Two knocks sounded at the door, and a moment later creaked open. Jon entered, and shut the door behind him. Sansa smiled at him, and placed the project aside.

"You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes," Jon's dark eyes glanced over the room before he fond a chair, Ghost trotted behind him. Tail wagging as he moved it closer to the bed, and sat down.

"I saw Theon."

Sansa's eyes went wide, and her lips parted slightly. The last she'd seen Theon was in the snowy wood. Shivering, and sniffing as he rode away on the horse. She had hoped that maybe he'd write to her. Let her know what happened.

"How was he? How'd he look? Did he make it home?"

"Yes," Jon answered a bit too quickly for her liking.

"But?"

Sansa's hands clenched the blanket, expecting the worst. Her heart sank, and tears stung at her eyes.

"He's on his way to rescue his sister."

"Rescue?"

What had she missed?

"Theon's Uncle, Euron took her prisoner after attacking their fleet."

Her hand found her mouth.

"Oh gods,"

"Theron's fine, Jon assured. He has some men loyal to Yara who will help him."

"And after he rescues her?"

Jon's eyes glanced down at the floor.

"I don't know, Sansa. But Yara made an alliance with Dany. Theon seems to be willing to uphold that alliance. I assume he'll come back here, Gods willing , he'll come here once Theon frees her."

Sansa nodded, and took a deep breath in an attempt to stop the tears that ran down his cheeks.

The chair scraped against the wood floor as Jon stood. She felt his hand on her shoulder, but couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"He asked about you. It was practically the first words out of his mouth. He seemed worried about you. Wanted to know if you were alright."

Sansa smiled to herself. Surprised by the watery laugh that escaped her.

"That sounds like him."

She could feel Jon's broody eyes on her as he returned to the chair.

"I hadn't realized the two of you were so close?"

"He saved me. He saved us, really." Sansa drew her cloak up and around her. She closed her eyes at the memory. She'd been so cold, Sansa could hardly 'd embraced her. Tried to get her warm even though he was probably just as cold and wet as she had been. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she had to fight the urge to shield her face with the hood of her cloak.

"He's the only one that really understands Jon." Her voice scarcely above a whisper. She finally looked at her half brother.

"Theon would never hurt me"

Jon's eyebrows flicked upwards briefly, as if something had just occurred to him.

"You sound like you're in love with him."

"Don't be ridiculous."

But could she dismiss the thought so easily?


	2. Chapter 2: Reunion

Theon

Yara was safe, but broken. Euron, in his typical fashion had dubbed his sister what he called an 'honorary member of the crew.' Theon approached slowly, not wanting to startle her. He understood that fear. That someone was constantly out to get you. Or betray you. Slit your throat.

"We're almost there, Yara."

She turned to him as he spoke. His sister had made a considerable effort to spit in the face of weakness whenever possible, and this proved it. She didn't need her tongue to convey a message, or give an order. Euron may have taken her tongue, but she still had a voice, and if looks could kill, Yara could have done the job for him.

His Uncle was dead. Killed by his own axe.

The battle earned him more scars. It was quite the feat, really. Theon wasn't sure how he'd made it out alive. A cut began at his collarbone, and ended mid chest. Had his uncle not been more exhausted before the final blow was struck, Theon might not have made it out alive.

Yara's hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder as Winterfell came into view. Even though he had seen it come and go, something about that Castle was chilling. Beyond the winds of winter that he could only assume was part of it's namesake.

"It's amazing, isn't it? How it looks like it has been here for thousands of years."

Yara nodded, taking it all in, even though it hadn't been the first time.

Winterfell never failed to captivate. It may be a frozen pile of shit, but it was as strong as the people who inhabited the walls inside.

Welcome home, Theon.

He blinked. A voice that he hadn't heard in a long time. One that he thought he'd never hear again. The few times he'd heard it, Theon chalked it up to lack of sleep, intermingled with torture.

'Robb?' He mouthed the words, not daring to speak them aloud.

His eyes glanced first to the crypts, and then remembered that his friends bones did not lay there.

What was the legend again? That the kings of Winterfell lay buried amongst stone and swords to keep them from raising from their graves? Old Nan had told him that story over a hundred times, but Theon didn't even believe in Gods, no less ghosts.

Robb had been a king, buried without his sword. Did that mean he still wandered the icy halls if Theon's mind wasn't having a go at him?

As the gates opened, he breathed in deeply. It still smelled the same, looked the same. His gaze found the banner flapped in the wind, danged from the ramparts.

The Stark banner. Not a Bolton. But a Direwolf.

"Winter is coming, he whispered. Yara nudged him gently, and kissed the top of his head.

She couldn't say it, but he heard her voice in his head.

Welcome home, little brother.

"This way, Yara."

He lead her to the great hall. It was quiet, A few people here and there, but nobody had come to greet them. Theon hadn't expected such. This was Jon's castle now. Jon and Sansa's.

"Theon?"

He turned around, to see a flash of red hair, and beautiful blue eyes. The sounds of her heels hitting the stone floor as she approached filled his ears.

She smelled of winter, lemon, and roses as their arms wrapped around one another.

"Sansa…"

She was breathing hard, and holding back tears. A gloved hand reached up to cup her face.

"Theon," Sansa sobbed, into his chest. He felt eyes on him, but rubbed her back. His chin came to rest on the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?" She gazed back up at him, eyes red and puffy from the sudden onset of tears.

"Leaving." His gloved hand reached up again, and wiped the tears that stained her cheeks. Sansa shook her head.

"You're home now. That's what is important."

"Ahem." Theon hadn't noticed Jon Snow in the corner. The sudden sound made the both of them jump.

"Jon?"

"Hello, Theon." The new King in the North turned to gaze at Yara.

"You must be Yara. I'm glad your brother's rescue mission was a success." His sister smiled, and held out her and. Theon watched as Jon took it. A firm grip. He trusted her.

"I'm afraid we're running out of space here. The Dothraki are camped out-"

"Jon," Sansa cut in, with a look. Apparently it was enough to silence him, because Jon bowed his head.

"They can stay with me. I've only one bed but I've plenty of floor space." After her eyes skimmed over the other iron born men, though she seemed to reconsider.

"However the rest of the crew… We can make arrangements within the castle walls for them, surely? Or perhaps they'd prefer to stay near your ships?"

Theon saw his sister smirking, and nudged her gently, and shook his head in a silent reprimand.

"Thank you, Sansa."

"You're welcome."

He turned back to the crew that had followed in behind him. Their judgmental eyes scammed over the castle. Theon didn't know what they were thinking.

Maybe they were thinking about how it could have been theirs at one time. Another time. If Theon had managed to actually hold the castle.

"I'll go see what we can do." Jon nodded once more to them, eyes the tiniest bit squinted. He was suspicious of him. Theon couldn't blame him. It wouldn't be the first time Theon would have to prove himself, an it certainly wouldn't be the last.

His mind traveled back to that day on the beach.

"We're done with all that." In the most commanding voice he could muster.

"Who says we are?"

"Yara Did. She made a pledge."

The moment when he'd earned the respect of the iron born men. He may not be fit to rule, but they would be left in good hands with Yara. They'd chosen to follow Theon only because he'd earned it. The iron born way, for the final time. Now was the time for new the Army of The Undead allowed them to live that long, anyway.

Arrangements were made, and the crew seemed happy. Or at the very least content with arrangement. Jon had offered them salt and Bread at the table. A custom that promised safety.

Yara sat with her crew, drinking, and smiling as if everything was fine, and normal. She was tough. A true Ironborn leader.

Sansa came to sit beside him and sipped her tea quietly.

"I never thought I'd see you again…" Her voice was distant, but not cold. Theon brought his eyes up to look at hers. They weren't sad. Quite the opposite. They were sparkling and alive now that they weren't puffy and red from crying.

"I'm here now."

"You are."

Sansa was smiling a him, and he could't help but smile back. The last he'd seen her, she'd been stripped of all the joy in her life. It was a relief to see a genuine smile on her lips. It made his heart flutter. She'd grown up quite a bit, Gone was the naive, slightly bratty, child.

"You're finally the Lady of Winterfell."

"Does that bother you?"

"No," Theon chuckled. "Not in the slightest, Lady Stark."

Sansa continued to smile before taking a sip of her tea. Arya playfully loaded a spoon at the edge of the table, but quickly shoved it in her mouth once Sansa had followed his gaze. He laughed more.

"Some things never change."

Sansa placed her tea down on the table.

"She's still annoying… But things are getting better.

"I'm glad." Theon took a sip of his ale, and shook his head.

Sansa's hand found his as it rested on the table. Their fingers interlocked.

"Theon," Sansa whispered. "I've missed you."


	3. Chapter 3 Still he haunts me in my sleep

Sansa had delt with cruel men in her life. She'd learned lessons the hard way. It all began with Joff.

Then Little Finger.

Then Ramsay.

Haunted by ghosts of his memory. Sure, she could burn the sigils. Make sure that whatever remained physically of house Bolton had been eradicated. Memories however, could not be touched by flame. Or ripped apart alive by dogs. Dreams were strange, frequent things for Starks. Sansa could deal with dreams, no matter how odd they seemed. It was the nightmares she could do without.

Night had fallen. The pathways of the Godswood had been lit by rows of lanterns, as snow softly fell. The train of her dress was heavy. She could feel it. As if something was pulling on the ends of it.

Warning her.

Sansa turned back to look. Perhaps her gown had been caught on a fallen branch? When she turned, it wasn't a stick, but a flock of birds. Tiny doves tugged at it, ripping apart the fabric with their beaks, and tiny talons. Warning her of danger. But she had no choice. This was her duty. To her house. To Mother and Father.

Stop!

She wanted to cry out. Yet, no words came. Sansa could feel her pulse and heart racing as laughter sounded in the distance, and she smelled he damp, rotting earth. When she turned back, Ramsay's face was just as twisted and gnarled as it had been on the night he died. His laugher, even more manic and persistent as he reached out a rotted hand.

Suddenly, he was at her side. She was in her old bedroom. Not Mother and Father's where she currently resided, but the one from that night.

No!

The rip of threads and fabric made her freeze as the rotted hands pressed on her back. That jangling sound that made her freeze up even to this day as Ramsay removed his belt, and allowed it to drop to the floor with a loud thump.

Sansa's eyes flashed open, and she pushed at the person who currently laid hands on her.

"Get off me!"

The hand's immediately left her, followed by a weight lifting from the bed.

"I'm sorry!"

She knew that voice. It wasn't Ramsay pushing her into the bed. It was Theon trying to wake her.

The fireplace glowed only embers now, but they offered enough light to show her that Theon now stood in the corner. Shifting nervously. Hands trembling.

She glanced down at the now unoccupied mattress on the floor.

"You were fussing in your sleep…" His voice was scarcely a whisper. "I never meant to…" He swallowed. Sansa could tell that the man was near tears now. Or perhaps crying already.

"Theon…" She whispered as he added another log to the fireplace.

"I should go." He made his way to the door.

"No, please!" She gripped the blankets. They were drawn up close to her. She hadn't remembered doing that. Theon turned back towards her, hands on the doorknob.

"Stay with me…" Sansa must have sounded rather childish. Like the nightmares she'd have as a child, and her Mother would come running in, and the morning when Sansa woke again, she would find her mother sleeping beside her. Prepared to fight any sleep monsters that may have come her way.

They stared at each other for a moment. Theon's eyebrows turned upwards.

Such a sad expression.

It killed her to see him look at her like that. But Sansa understood. Then his hand fell away from the knob, and he stepped towards the bed. Sansa allowed the blankets to fall as she searched his face for something. Any semblance of am indication of feelings. She needed to know if her feelings were reciprocated.

He had put some weight back on, and he had a lot less fear in his eyes. He seemed to stand much taller to. He was handsome.

He'd always been handsome, even when he was a shell of a man.

Sansa patted the edge of the bed, and once again asked him to stay. After a moment or two of hesitation, the man she'd seen go through hell and back. All with her, laid down beside her. Her head came to rest on his chest. He smelled faintly of salt, fish, and the sea, intermingled with the distinct smell of a cold winter night.

"I get nightmares, too."

She wrapped both her arms around him. Thankful that she was not the only one to be plagued with this.

Sansa brought her eyes up to meet his. They were the same bluish green of the ocean. It suited him.

And then her eyes fell to his lips. A bit chapped, but so were hers. The cold weather in the North made it nearly impossible to prevent such things. Her head had already been tilted, thanks to their position. She was not a bold girl, but she wasn't stupid either. A hand came to rest on Theon's face, tracing the outline of his bead first before she ran a thumb gently over his bottom lip.

His mouth parted slightly at her touch, and she smiled as she brought her lips to his.

Theon seemed surprised, and pulled away.

"Sansa," He whispered, shaking his head. "Theres nothing we can… I can't…"

His eyes were downcast and ashamed. It took her a moment to process what he meant. But then she shook her head. Her hand once again returning to his cheek.

"I know," She whispered. Sansa could feel her cheeks redden. Of course he wouldn't feel the same way. He couldn't feel the same.

But after a moment, his lips found hers this time. His kiss was soft, and welcoming. Not like any other kiss she'd had before. It wasn't forced.

It just felt right.

Her lips pressed back against his. It was clear he hadn't forgotten how to kiss a woman. This made sense, Theon had always been the type to chase after women. If memory served her correctly, he'd always had a certain fondness for Redheads. Or at least she hoped.

Ros came to her mind. Sansa had always thought Ros was pretty. She had the most perfect red hair. If she had been in a more respectable position, Sansa may have even considered emulating such hairstyles. They were simple. But elegant.

However, times were different, then. Theon and her both were different people.

Still, she kissed him. A bit nervously at first, but she soon found a rhythm, following his lead.

Sansa liked the way it felt. How the sensation filled her stomach with tiny fluttering birds, rather than fear. She did not want to push him away.

They had lost track of time. By the time they'd drifted back off again, Someone had come knocking to rouse them.

Yara kept giving her knowing glances. She'd wondered if perhaps Theon had told her that they'd spent half the night kissing.

No, that's not him anymore.

Perhaps the old, arrogant, Theon would have bragged, but not this new one. The one with a new found confidence that Sansa couldn't help but be proud of. Jon had been busy making preparations for a wedding f his own.

"I will not father a Bastard." She heard him say. Which could only mean one thing. Her suspicions about Jon and Dany were correct. Jon tried to insist that the marriage was purely political. Sansa knew more then she let on. She'd seen the way they looked at one another.

"Jon," She knocked on the door. "May I come in?"

"Of course, Sansa."

She opened the door, and stepped inside. Jon had kept his room relatively tidy. The bed had been made, and Ghost slept happily on the bed overlooking the window. Snow fell hurriedly, as if it's mission was to now bury the castle.

Jon was writing at his desk, but stood as she shut the door.

"What can I help you with, Lady Stark?"

She chewed her lip nervously. Should she just be upfront with him?

"I wanted to ask you something."

Jon nodded, and indicated a nearby chair, as he returned to his.

"I've overheard you talking with The Queen."

Jon cast her that same, broody, but knowing look.

"I know why you want to marry her."

"She makes an-"

Sansa held up a hand to silence him.

"I want to marry Theon. For an alliance."

It wasn't a complete lie. There were benefits to such an arrangement.

Jon appeared skeptical of the last statement, but did not appear to be surprised.

"Sansa, a Greyjoy and a Stark union…"

"You've already told him he could be both. He told me. Why not let him marry me? I will be unavailable to marry another lord, and I feel safe with Theon, Jon. Not to mention a Greyjoy alliance grants us ships, and give them what Father and Robert had deprived them of for so long."

"Balon-"

"Balon Greyjoy is dead." Sansa shot her brother a look.. She understood Jon's reluctance but this is what she wanted.

" Theon and Yara both made a pledge to change the iron born way," She continued with a shake of her head. Disappointment in her half brother, evidently clear. "In order for them to do that, they need more allies than just house Targaryen!"

"He betrayed our Family, Sansa. Or have you forgotten? What makes you think he won't do it again?"

She stared at him. Her hands clenched into fists. She wanted to strike him across the face, but she would not want such treatment from him. So, she swallowed, tilted her head up at him, and gazed her half brother in the eyes.

"He has paid for his crimes tenfold. Yes, but you weren't there. You don't know the first thing about the monster Theon saved me from. He will never have a bride if it's not me, Jon! And I choose him. Yes, Theon can't give me a true born heir… But I don't want to have an heir. Not after Ramsay."

Jon's face softened then.

"I'll see what I can do about the arrangements."


	4. Chapter 4 The Godswood Wedding

Theon

"I still think we should wait," Theon muttered to himself as he pulled a clean tunic over his head. "There are more pressing matters that need attending."

That's what he'd tried to explain to Sansa, anyway. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't want to marry her, but in the grand scheme of things, this wedding seemed inappropriate.

But Sansa had been insistent. She had a way of convincing people, a trait she'd probably inherited from her mother. Maybe she thought if they didn't do it soon, they might never get the chance? Or before she other wedding could be arranged.

No, Jon wouldn't allow that to happen. He was smarter than that. He wouldn't use his sister as a pawn in someone else's game. He wasn't that type of person.

Yara thought the wedding would be better suited for Pyke. It would show the Iron Islands capable of alliances, just like the' great noble lords of Westeros' as she'd put it. Well, written it. She wanted to be in the conversations with Jon. Now that she couldn't speak, writing had become a habit for her. It got the point across. Jon had dismissed it anyway.

"A godswood wedding that is to take place in a matter of days just makes the most sense," He'd replied. "Not that I disagree with you, but to travel all the way to Pyke at the present is dangerous. I need my allies in Winterfell right now. If you'd like, after all this is over, and the dust has settled we can do another ceremony in Pyke. But given the circumstances, I do hope you understand why I'm so adamant about the wedding happening In Winterfell."

Yara gazed at him for a long while, before exchanging a look with Theon, and reluctantly nodding. A hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry if this is causing you trouble. Jon," Theon apologized. He'd been doing that a lot recently. Jon waved a hand at him. Sansa pouted at him from the corner of the room. But she did seem happy, despite the circumstances. He liked that. She seemed to be in much better spirits the past few , he was a nervous wreck abut it all.

But the nights he spent with Sansa calmed him. They supported, and understood one another. The nightmares were easier to bare. They were un-alone in their grief, and fear. Two haves made up one broken whole. They completed each other. That too, was undeniable.

It had taken some planning, but Theon and Sansa were going to be married in the Godswood that afternoon. He could tell that this was one of the less pressing matters on Jon's mind, and couldn't entirely blame him. The army of the dead were coming. That was an indisputable fact. It's what they should be preparing for. Not a afternoon wedding.

Sansa insisted that if a wedding was t be held in the godswood, it happen in daylight. Theon couldn't blame her. He'd been there on the worst night of Sansa's life… o force her to relive it again…

A shiver raked down his spine at the thought. He shook his head, as if to clear the memories from it.

This was different.

It had to be.

She wanted this, and so did he.

Sansa had ensured that anything that could possibly be a reminder of that night had been removed. He didn't know how she managed to sew something so quickly. Perhaps she'd been working on it for awhile? When Sansa had asked for his olive green cloak, he hadn't been sure why. Now, as he gazed at himself in the mirror, he understood. A cloak as black as night, adorned with both the Yellow Kraken of his house, and Stark Direwolves. Towards the edges, she'd even managed to embroider waves on the edges of his cloak to represent Pyke. He turned around suddenly when he noticed something in the reflection, and turned around suddenly.

"Theon," Robb gazed up at him. Transparent, wounded, a hole in his chest that didn't bleed, much to Theon's relief. He swallowed, unsure what to say.

"I didn't… Robb… I'm Sorry." This had to be an illusion. Something in his imagination. However, when Robb reached out, and touched his shoulder, his blood went as cold as ice. Not all that much different from when him and Sansa had crossed the river. Only this time, no water was present. This wasn't in his head. This was a ghost in Winterfell.

"I know, Theon." Robb's face was stern, but honest.

"Can you forgive me?"

Robb's eyes bore into his own.

"You declared me your brother, and then you turned on me. Why, Theon?"

His shoulders sagged.

"I should have died with you."

"You should have," Robb nodded before his face went soft. The transparent figure relaxed, and a faint smile appeared on his face. "Lucky for you I can't punish you for your crimes. But you've paid for them. You're not the same man who betrayed my family. That Theon died when he became Reek. I can't forgive the old Theon Greyjoy. But I can forgive the man who saved my sister."

"I don't-"

Robb raised his hands.

"I know, you don't want to be forgiven. I was there when you spoke with Jon. My senate is the same. I can't forgive you for everything Theon. But without you, Sansa wouldn't be here now. So, maybe ease up on yourself? Let yourself accept some of the forgiveness."

Theon stared at him, and sniffed. He wanted to embrace him. But he couldn't. Robb gazed at him, a bit more softly then Jon had back in Dragonstone.

"You are my brother, Now and always. Take care of her."

And just like that, Robb was gone as quickly as he'd come. Theon stared at the spot where Robb had been only moments before.

He jumped when a knock sounded at the door. It took him a moment to collect himself, and ape at his eyes before he crossed the room, and opened the smiled up at him, and entered the room. Holing up a much nicer brown knit tunic than the one he wore now.

"You spoil me," He laughed as he took the item from her. "I still don't know where you find the time to do all this."

Sansa shrugged humbly "I never work on one thing at a time. These are just things I happened to finish in time." Her lips pressed against his cheek. Soft and warm. Just like her.

"See you soon."

An hour later, He stood at the godswood. Yara stood next to him, standing at attention. The Maester waited with him under a weirwood tree. Snow had fallen from the night before glistened from the sun that peeked out from behind a greying sky. The Greyjoy soldiers scattered amongst the people of Winterfell. It was an odd sight to see. Some of Yara's men had followed their captain, and replaced the fishing jackets with thick fur cloaks over their armor.

Snow crunched in the distance and Theon turned towards the noise, and two figures came into view. Sansa's red hair blowed softly in the wind. It seemed she had also re used some of her old clothing. He recognized the soft blue pelt from the cloak she wore as a girl that draped neatly across her shoulders. The beautiful embroidered dire wolf held the cloak around her neck. The beads glittered softly, not unlike the snow on the ground. Theon had seen her wear the teal dress a few times, and smiled at the new additions to it. She had embroidered waves on the bottom of the skirt to match his cloak. She looked radiant.

Yara nudged him gently, and smiled. He chanced a glance at his sister and could read that look. It seemed to whisper 'You're a lucky man.'

He felt himself relax as he clasped his hands in front of him, and couldn't help but smile as she neared. Jon held her arm and paused. The Maester stepped forward, hands also folded at the front.

"Who comes before the old Gods this afternoon?"

Jon's eyes turned to the man.

"Sansa, of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown. True born and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Theon swallowed hard. He too had once said the same words. But Tradition was tradition. And these were different times. So, he stepped forward, and nodded.

"Theon, of House Greyjoy. Last surviving Son of Balon Greyjoy. Brother of the heir to Pyke and the IronIslands. Who gives her?"

"Jon Snow. Her half brother."

"Lady Sansa, do you take this man?" She stepped forward, a smile spread across her flushed face.

"I take this man."

Jon stepped aside, and and nodded Theon. He wasn't smiling, but that was nothing new. Even at a wedding, he brooded.

There was no fear in her eyes. Her voice rang out, sure and steady.

She took Theon's gloved hand firmly in her own. Their fingers laced firmly together and turned towards the Maester.

She gazed up at him, the smile never once leaving her face. And when their lips met, Theon couldn't help but smile too. His forehead pressed into hers once they parted.

"I love you, Sansa." He whispered. It was the first time he'd said the words out loud.

As the crowed clapped quietly, his eyes were drawn to a tree. He followed Bran's gaze. He looked so small in that chair. But he was smiling at something. Far off in the distance somewhere, Ned's hand held Caitlyn's. Robb stood off in the distance. The woman standing beside them holding an infant must have been his wife.

"Sansa," he whispered, nodding towards the figures. But she only looked perplexed.

"What is it?"

He glanced back, and blinked.

"You can't see them?"

"See who?" Her eyes glanced over the crowd. "I see a lot of familiar faces, who are you referring to?"

His brows knit together.

"Arya looks like she's about to cause some trouble, doesn't she?"

Sansa smiled, and kissed his cheek.

"Doesn't she always?"

"Yes," He replied with a nervous laugh. "She sure does."

Bran's eyes turned on him, the faint smile still stretched across his face. There were lots of things that Bran Stark could see that most people couldn't. He was the Three Eyed Raven. Whatever that meant.

But as Bran nodded to him, he knew the figures smiling back at them weren't just his mind playing tricks on him.


	5. Chapter 5

One Year After The War….

Sansa

Sansa still had a lot to learn about being the lady of Pyke. As much as her heart ached for Winterfell, shortly after the wedding, it had been brought down by the Cersei's men and the Golden Company. Her heart still ached for the soft crunch of snow under her feet, and the smell of the cold winter air. Though the shores of Pyke served as a decent enough substitute. She liked it much better than the streets of kings landing. It was also good for Theon to be around his sister. And regardless of what happened in Winterfell, it was good to have a fresh start. Her Husband was alway good at speeches. He was proving himself to be a worthy second in command to Yara. Theon spoke rather well, and always seemed to know what his sister wanted to say. Ever since the two of them had arrived, things had begun to change for everyone.

They needed a break from the war. Winter may be over now, but that also meant that life had to go on after.

The two of them still had dreams but they comforted one another. But something else also kept the nightmares at bay.

Sansa put down her embroidery once the baby had begun to cry in a nearby cradle.

"Shhh," She soothed as she lifted the baby boy, swaying him softly just as her mother had once done with Arya, Bran, and Rickon. "You're alright, Robb."

The baby may have not been theirs by blood, but Robb was just as much their son as any 'true born.'

As soon as Sansa had settled down into her new life, the first thing they talked about had been children. Theon thought adoption would be an excellent alternative for them. And Sansa couldn't have agreed more.

After all, Jon had not been her Fathers child, and yet he was just as Stark as she was. Why would their son be any different?

The sounds of the sea, and muffled voices could be heard outside the window. Something always seemed to be going on in the Iron Islands. Sansa pressed her lips to Robb's forehead and smiled. Theon and Podrick were sparring outside.

"Your father is always keeping himself busy." She muttered quietly into the boys soft, reddish brown, curls. Brienne watched them not too far off. She was glad Brienne had come with them. It was nice to have some familiarity after so much had gone on.

Theon's swordsmanship had improved significantly. He'd always had been fairly well rounded with a sword, but thanks to all the trauma, sometimes it was difficult. His strength had always been with the bow and arrow, but Ramsay had seen an end to that. So,sword it was. Brienne was helping him relearn what he'd forgotten with practice swords. The clanking of wood was significantly easier for him to listen to than the clash of metal against metal. He didn't always spar this way. Theon knew of course sometimes using a sword was necessary, but for sparring matches, this was his preferred way. Robb giggled occasionally at the noise until the wet nurse came to feed him.

She took this opportunity to go down and watch the sparring. Sansa quite enjoyed the way Theon's mood seemed to improve whenever she or Robb were in his sight. Family life suited the both of them. Or so she thought it did. Then again, they had excellent teachers to learn from.

By the time she'd managed to get down towards the beach, all three of them were resting. Watching the waves hypnotically push and pull the tide. Sansa smiled quietly.

"It figures you stop the moment I decide to come down and watch."

Sansa settled herself down in the sand next to him, her head came to rest gently on his shoulder.

"Sorry, M'lady." Theon's lips briefly brushed against hers. He sounded exhausted. "Is Robb finally asleep?"

"He took a nap a little while ago, but he's with Lady Linley at the moment."

"At least one of us is getting sleep," He'd begun to laugh, but it turned into a yawn midway through. Sansa smiled softly as she laced their fingers together, ignoring the way the sand felt rough between their palms.

"Come back to the castle with me."

"Is something wrong?" The center of his eyebrows had begun to crease in that way only her husband could pull off.

"No," Sansa laughed as she pushed his hair softly away from his forehead with her free hand. "You just haven't had a decent sleep in days." She paused, and leaned in to whisper in his ear."And you smell like sweat and fish. Not the most alluring smell."

Theon stood, and dusted off the sand before turning towards Pod and Brienne.

"Thank you for the sparring session."

"It was our pleasure," Brienne smiled at the two of them, before turning her gaze towards her younger companion, who had fallen asleep in the sand.

"I think Pod has the right idea." Theon chuckled quietly as Sansa took his arm, and began leading him back up towards the castle.

Once he cleaned up, and dressed Sansa was pleased that he'd cuddled up beside her in bed. Theon was asleep almost as soon as his arms wrapped around her. They didn't get many moment's like this, so when they came around she appreciated them. Between Robb not sleeping for more than two hours at a time, and their various duties, intimate moments such as these were a rarity. Before she drifted off to sleep, her thumb traced the scar that peaked out from the collar of his tunic.

When Sansa awoke, she found him with Robb in his arms, whispering words she couldn't quite make out. But Robb was giggling, and Theon was smiling like his former self. She'd missed that smile, it suited him. Before Ramsay, he'd always laughed, joked, and smiled. He may have been a bit arrogant in those days, or maybe she just misunderstood hm back then. A thought occurred to her then. Theon had been a ward to her father, not all that different from how she was technically once a ward to Cersei Lannister. If only she'd known what must have been going on in his head back then. Her family had not treated him badly, not in the same way Cersei had in any case. However, she could see now how difficult such matters must have been on him, even before both their lives changed so drastically.

She never saw herself falling in love with a man like Theon Greyjoy. Yet, here they were. Married, and with a child. Sansa had stopped believing in things like faith, and fate long ago. For all one knew, it could have played a role in all this. In spite of everything, they'd survived. That was all she could really say for certain.

Theon's eyes met hers, and his smile only widened.

"I was doing my best not to wake you."

"You didn't" Sansa sat up carefully, and patted her husbands side of the bed. He nodded, as their child fussed in his arms.

"Oh, don't fuss now," Theon joked as he joined her on the bed. He tickled the young boys belly, and laugher echoed off the walls. Robb feet kicked at the air happily as his hand wrapped around one of his fathers remaining fingers.

Theon turned his head to look at her, and so, she kissed him. Not as briefly as he had kissed her on the beach, but just long enough to linger.

"I love you, Sansa."

"Now and always?" She'd heard him mutter the phrase so often in his sleep, she figured it must have meant a great deal to him.

"Now and always."

Their family may not be traditional, but it was the one Sansa Stark had always wanted. A husband who loved her genuinely with all his heart, and a son for the both of them to love.


End file.
